


One More Threshold to Cross

by sardonicsmiley



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F, Kink, Locked In, Marriage, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-07
Updated: 2008-06-07
Packaged: 2021-01-13 17:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardonicsmiley/pseuds/sardonicsmiley
Summary: They move together, picking up each other's rhythm as though they've only been apart hours instead of months.





	One More Threshold to Cross

**Author's Note:**

> sherriaisling, I promise that the harem-slave-Rodney fic is coming. I just didn't want to rape Rodney again... Apparently, I am not that evil. Who knew? Also? I had no idea that I had this many porn-y ideas for Battlestar running around in my head. kink_bingo is full of surprises for me! Set towards the beginning of the Year in Baltar's Hair. (When they were still keeping Sharon in a cage.)

When Sharon had imagined marriage—and she had imagined marriage, at least some of the hers had—it had not involved a ceremony conducted inside a cell. Someone ha found a dress for her to wear, deep blue, and a few sizes too big. They'd even managed to get some flowers from the planet for her hair, and she knew that Helo had pulled the thorns off the winding stalks himself. 

The ceremony shouldn't feel particularly special, but it does anyway. It even gives her the stirrings of hope, heady and thick, because if she can get married then she can't be a machine, they can't still see her as a machine. She holds tight to Helo's big hands, dizzy with the implications and holding her breath, barely hearing the Admiral's voice as he conducts the ceremony. 

Sharon knows that Helo hadn't asked for a priest, even though he still believes in the gods. She appreciates that, even though there's a part of her, a big part, that thinks that she should start worshipping the gods again. It doesn't really matter if she believes they're real or not. She's cut her ties with the cylons, and with their God. This is her family now, the one she chose with the ring that Helo is sliding onto her finger.

When they're bond together Helo leans down to kiss her, his mouth warm and familiar, and she smiles against his lips, feeling tears in the corners of her eyes. It's been so long, too long, since she touched him, since they had the chance to touch each other. 

Around them the two witnesses and the Admiral file out of the room, but Sharon doesn't pull away to bid them goodbye. Helo has one big hand curled against her waist, his other carefully cupping her neck, and in anyone else she would fear this closeness. 

The door to her cell locks with a click, the guards just a phone call away to leave Helo out when he's ready to leave.

Sharon winces at the sound, the reminder that they still don't trust her, not completely. The times she's betrayed her people still aren't enough to assure them of her intentions. The marriage vows that bind her to her family, to Helo, still don't show them that she's chosen among the evil choices presented her, and found this to be the lesser. 

Helo says, "Hey, it's okay," and kisses her again, putting himself between the ugly barred door and her, his big body blocking it off. Sharon nods, winding her arms up around his shoulders, rocking up onto her tiptoes to kiss him at a better angle. 

His uniform beneath her hands is stiff with starch, the buttons and pins pressing sharp edged through the fabric of her dress. Sharon smoothes her hands across the broad span of his shoulders, then back in, sliding her fingers up his neck, carding them through his close cropped hair. She's missed this, so very much, the swell of love for him rising in her stomach, singing through her veins.

When Helo straightens, he lifts her, cradling her in his arms, and she smiles involuntarily, swinging her legs back and forth. She says, "I love you," in case he's forgotten, kissing along his jaw and neck when he carries her to the joke that they're calling a bed. 

The sheets are white, freshly cleaned, and he turns, sitting down on it, holding her in his lap. He's smiling as well, his eyes bright, tilting her chin up to kiss her once more, slow and sweet, relearning each other's touch. 

When he pulls away to speak, his voice is rougher, deeper, "I love you, too. Never doubt that," and he tangles their fingers together, rings clicking against each other. She wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pulling herself closer, heart racing. 

One of his big hands slides down her back, following the line of her spine, moving around to the side, walking his fingers up her ribs. When he reaches her zipper, pulling it down just a hairsbreadth, she gasps against his mouth. Helo says, "I—" and then swallows heavily, his thumb brushing back and forth over her ribs above the edge of her dress.

Sharon smiles at him, "I know, me too," kissing him again as he draws the zipper carefully down. The material is soft, worn, and it slides down her skin with a whisper when his big hands push the straps off her shoulders. 

There isn't exactly an abundance of sexy underwear in the fleet, not even for weddings, and she frowns self consciously when the dress pools around her hips. Helo groans, pressing his mouth close to her ear, breathing rough and ragged, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Sharon pulls back so she can look into his face. His expression is open, his eyes dark, and she reaches out, tracing the shell of his ear, the strong line of his jaw. He leans into her touch, and Sharon smiles helplessly at him, sliding her hand down to unhook his sash, pulling it off and laying it carefully across the chair set beside the bed.

Sharon shifts, straddling his thighs, trading needy kisses with him as she unbuttons his uniform, pulling it out of the waistband of his pants. She pushes the heavy material off his shoulders, the muscles in his arms shifting beneath his skin as he shrugs it off. His dog tags hang beneath his white tank, and Sharon presses her hand over them, her ring catching the light, the two symbols of the life she has chosen.

"Hey, you okay?" Helo's voice is soft, one of his hands coming up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. The swell of emotion in her chest makes her smile crooked, and she nods, sliding her hand to the side to cover his heart instead, feeling the pound of it beneath her palm. 

His skin, when she pulls the tank up and over his head, is flushed. The muscles in his chest jump when she traces absent patterns across his skin with her fingertips. She leans forward, kissing across his collarbone, his hands sliding down her back, fingers fanning out across her hips, the tips just dipping below where the dress is still clinging to her.

Sharon groans, kissing up his neck, pressing her body closer to his. Helo is so warm, and she winds her arms around his neck, kissing along his jaw, finding his mouth. She can feel the hard press of him through his uniform pants, and grinds against him. 

For so long she's missed him, and the friction is marvelous. Sharon shifts her hips slowly, her lips barely brushing his, her eyes falling half shut as she concentrates. She aches, and the pressure of him between her legs is both torture and mercy. 

Helo is tracing his fingertips up and down her spine, tracing each vertebra with the rough pads of his fingers. When he unsnaps her bra she shivers, his hands spanning her back, sliding up over her shoulder blades, warm and solid, strong. 

Sharon tilts her head back, shaking out her hair, grabbing at his shoulders for balance and stability. His muscles move beneath her hands, his mouth finding the shape of her neck, lips gentle over her skin. He surrounds her, and she gasps, aching and needing, grinding against him harder, lost in this moment. 

He murmurs into the curve of her neck, "I love you so much," and she can almost taste his sincerity, feel it painted out across her skin. And she knows. She never has to doubt that he loves her, because they made a child together. 

Sharon trembles when her orgasm crests, surprised by the intensity of it, trusting Helo to take her weight. He does, lifting her, lying her out carefully across the narrow bed that they've been given. He removes her bra, his fingertips sliding down her arms, moving across to her stomach and pulling the bunched up dress over her hips, down her legs. 

She had worn no shoes, and she wiggles her toes at him, feeling loose and languid. Helo smiles, tracing a thumb along the arch of her foot, bending down and lifting her leg, pressing a kiss to the inside of her ankle. In his hands she's sure she should feel small, but instead she feels precious, cared for, larger than life. 

When he kisses his way slowly up her leg she giggles, tossing an arm over her face, feeling her cheeks heat. There's just a little stubble on his cheeks, and it rasps against her skin, tingling, making her toes curl. When he reaches her hips, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, pulling them down her legs, and she opens her eyes again, looking at him. 

Helo is still wearing his pants and she pushes herself up, hooking her fingers into his waistband, pulling on him, though his weight keeps him from going anywhere. She cocks her head to the side, feeling deathly serious when she says, "Take these off."

Helo makes a hoarse sound, covering her hand with his, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, the corner of her mouth, as he fumbles with his button and zipper. He has to stand to step out of them, and she watches him, the line of his spine when he bends, the strength in his thighs and hips, his cock hard and tight up against his stomach already. 

For a moment he hesitates, staring at her, his expression open and needy. Sharon reaches her hand out to him, and he tangles their fingers together, sinking back onto the bed between her thighs, fitting one hand around the back of her head, kissing her. 

Sharon slides an arm around his shoulders, holding onto him, leaning back, feeling him move with her. His dog tags dangle between them, falling forward to trail across her skin, and he starts to reach for them. Sharon catches Helo's hand, holding his gaze, speaking softly, "Leave them." 

Helo frowns for a moment, and then relents, kissing her, sliding his hand over her shoulder, over her collarbone, finding her breast. Sharon arches up into the touch, but it's not what she wants, not right now. Not after she's been denied for so long. 

It's not hard to hook on leg over his hips, to pull on him. Helo pauses, his mouth stilling against hers, before he lets out a shaky breath. He asks, "Can I?" And all Sharon can manage is a nod, because she wants that so very, very much. 

Helo groans, shifting, pressing his face up against her neck and sliding his hand down her body, over her stomach, between her thighs. She's wet, so wet, and his fingers move over her, into her, easily. She arches, groaning, her legs opening wider all on their own. 

Sharon murmurs, "I want you," and Helo kisses the juncture of her neck and shoulder, shifting forward, pressing slowly into her body. After so long apart she barely remembered how this felt, the stretch of him sinking into her, the heat and fullness, the delicious friction. Sharon gasps, feeling it through her entire body, eyes rolling back, gripping at his arms and shoulders.

Helo gasps, "Gods," moving into her slowly, with small, tight thrusts. It seems to take forever and at the same time not nearly long enough, until she has him fully inside her. He's supporting his weight on his elbows, his face still pressed against her skin, his breathing fast and shallow. 

Sharon runs her hands back over his head, down the straining lines of his neck, across his shoulders and back. His muscles are wound so tightly, hard under her hands, his skin burning hot. Helo groans, something low and thick. She can feel his eyelashes, fluttering against her throat.

When Helo finally moves, shifting in her, moving his hips, they both moan. Helo arches up, his forehead pressing against Sharon's collarbone, one of his hands sliding back up her body. When he thrusts into her, slow and careful, he drags his fingertips up her breast, circling her nipple. 

They move together, picking up each other's rhythm as though they've only been apart hours instead of months. Sharon throws her head back, her fingers sliding across his skin, tracing the muscles lining his back, what she can reach of his sides.

There's pressure building again, deep inside her, swelling more and more with each grind of their bodies together, with each circle of his fingers against her breast. She cries out, the ache inside her too much to keep quiet, gripping at his shoulders, her spine bowing up. 

Helo shifts again, sliding an arm under her back, pulling her up against him, finding her mouth again, kissing her dizzy. Sharon groans into his mouth, gripping at the back of his neck, the change in position giving her pressure in all the right places. 

Sharon can feel her inner walls tightening, trembling and shaking her way through orgasm. Helo holds her tighter, thrusting deep inside her, his cock jerking. She can feel the hot burst inside her, gasping at the feeling of it. 

Helo kisses her, trembling, and she holds onto him, praying to all the gods she has ever known that he stays here with her, for at least a time.

* * *


End file.
